


The Temple's Tapestry

by Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind



Series: The Random Disconnected DA Creativity Galore [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullen's Issues(TM), Developing Relationship, F/M, Gen, Light Angst, No Smut, One-Sided Attraction, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Sneaking Around, just two people talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 05:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7878016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the Inquisitor wanted was a little peace and quiet. It seemed the Commander of the Inquisition wanted exactly the same. The Vashoth and the human meet by the hot springs and a conversation happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Temple's Tapestry

**Author's Note:**

> *crawls from the depth of the underworld* I have been feeling pretty shitty recently, anxiety taking the better of me. I can't write and that torments me because all the fics I've started I really want to finish. 
> 
> This piece, however, came to me when I suddenly realized how little scars Cullen has. He is a warrior, and he went through at least two major events that had a very good possibility of leaving physical marks as well. I sat on this for at least a week and then I gave up and you, dear reader, have a questionable pleasure of reading it.
> 
> I appreciate every kudos and comment if they are worth giving.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Garbage

Slowly she made her way to the hot springs, enjoying the quiet night, stars twinkling in the distance. As the Inquisitor there was little time for herself, people always needed her and sometimes Adaar wondered if the only thing they desired was the inspirational presence she provided. In the end all the diplomacy, the military and the espionage had been perfectly handled by her advisers. All they requited from their new leader was an appreciative nod.

Tahmyria sighed and wrapped her fist tighter around the towel she carried. The duty of the leader burdened her greatly. Her life should have been the one of the mercenary - the thrill of action, the pouch heavy with coin and, above all, freedom to be herself. It was something her parents, the fugitives from the Qun, had hammered into her her head a very long time ago. The title of the Inquisitor was constricting, suffocating even. It meant rules. Directives. It meant Josephine hovering over her like an eagle, making sure that a sneeze would not start a war between one Bann or another.

The air started to feel warmer, the hot pools were just ahead. And then Adaar heard a sound, almost thunderous in the stillness of the night. Tahmyria froze as her instincts kicked in and she held her breath, proceeding to slowly move forwards, eyes fixed dead ahead.

As the springs came in view, Tahmyria slowly exhaled and glared in surprise on the lonely figure standing by the steaming pool. Commander Cullen had just undone his breastplate and carefully put it on the ground, away from water. Unsure what to do, the Inquisitor stayed under the cover of the nearby rock formation, bright violet eyes watching the man in front of her.

**~*~*~**

The joint pain was relentless. The cold climate of the Frostbacks made it so much worse and Cullen had stopped counting the sleepless nights it caused him. The discovery of the hot springs was a blessing in disguise aside from the fact there were always people splashing in it and Cullen was not a fan of communal baths. Crowds made him anxious and bathing with his fellow soldiers would bring up certain discussions the Commander tried to avoid at all cost.

Cullen rubbed his temples, trying to chaise the headache away and took off his shirt, the mixture of both cold and warm air tickling his bare skin.

_Scars._

His soldiers loved to brag about theirs. There were stories attached to every bruise and every scratch. From heroic tales of surviving a wave of Red Templars to a druffalo accident in the Hinterlands.

But Cullen was not proud of the marks he bore. They shamed him for what he had been and what he had done. 

His fingers slid over his left shoulder, tips tracing the surface of the healed burn. A Harrowing gone wrong. A scared mage, eyes still full of horror from the walk in the Fade, attacking the templars and setting himself aflame. The fireball hit Cullen in the shoulder, melting the armor and burning through to the skin. The spirit healer had saved the mobility of his arm but even after all those years he could feel the tug of the scarred skin when swinging the shield just a tad too hard. 

Three ugly long gashes crossing his abdomen - a memento from the Fereldan Circle. Cullen was off duty when the coup had taken place. An abomination in templar armor burst into his chamber and swung its claws at him. Couple of inches closer and Cullen would be impaled. He fought the thing off, he put the armor on and he had joined the rest, ignoring the stinging pain and the warm feel of blood on his skin. The wound was superficial but by the time the tower was safe, it got infected and Cullen spent another week tossing and screaming, fever making the nightmares so much worse.

And, of course, the cut on the lip that, according to Varric, was making the women swoon. A mark left by an angry mob during the Kirkwall uprising when Cullen tried to help out a cornered mage. The fury of the masses was directed at him the moment he demanded to step away from the girl. Once again, couple of inches closer and he might have lost an eye.

There were plenty of other cuts peppering his skin but these were the prominent ones and they were the ones he did not want to talk about.

Cullen huffed and took a deep breath. All he wanted was to relax and not to allow his thoughts to drag him down. The pants and smalls were the last thing to go before he took a short run and dove into the pool.

**~*~*~**

Adaar did not want to admit to herself that she watched the underling undress right in front of her just to sate her curiosity. The image of the Commander sleeping in his armor was, of course, ridiculous, but few in Skyhold - if any - ever saw him out of it. And, in all honesty, the man in front of her was very easy on the eyes. The moonlight made his skin even paler, giving him the alabaster look of the statue - just like the ones she had seen on the pictures in the books her parents brought with them. Lean tall frame and the body fitting a profile of a human warrior. She watched the muscles roll under his skin as the Commander gracefully jumped in the water.

Somewhere further down the path a bird had suddenly shrieked loudly and startled her, making the magic of the Anchor flare up. If the animal did not give her away, the magic sure took care of that.

“Who’s there?!”

She could still retreat and pretend this had never happened but Tahmyria took a deep breath and dove out from her cover. Cullen’s face had softened for just a moment and then a blush crept up his cheeks as he realized in what predicament he had suddenly ended up.

“Inquisitor! Forgive me, I am not - Could you, ah - ”

Adaar turned away perhaps a bit too fast, even before the Commander finished stuttering through his sentence. She heard a splash, a huff and quick rummaging in the nearby pile of clothes.

“May I turn around?” she asked quietly, fully aware of how vulnerable Cullen was right now. His armor was the shield both for the body and the soul. Something she had figured out early on in their - sadly - professional relationship.

“Were you watching, Inquisitor?” his voice was soft and Adaar could swear there was a note of disappointment in it.

“I -,”Tahmyria was at a loss, the truth would be offensive and somehow weaseling out seemed just as bad. “I came here to bathe,” she pointed at the towel on her shoulder. “But you were here first and then the bird just scared me _shitless_ -” the story clearly did not fly. “Yes.” she admitted, looking rather guilty.

“Why?” he asked curtly, golden eyes studying her face. While she looked the other way the Commander had put on pants and dried his hair. Somehow, out of the two of them, it was Tahmyria who suddenly was feeling like the vulnerable one.

“I apologize.” Adaar answered, eyes fixed on his. She outranked him in every way, she could just order him to get dressed and drop the questions but it felt as if the roles had suddenly reversed.

“I did not ask for that,” Cullen donned his shirt on and Adaar felt a sting of disappointment, a feeling completely out of place in the current situation. “I wondered why you did what you did.”

The Inquisitor closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. It was foolish to hide the truth now, it will hurt the whatever relationship they had if she continued avoiding his questions.

“You are a handsome man, Commander. My people, the Vashoth, we appreciate the beauty of the body and a story it can tell. The posture, the build... All speak volumes.”

The tips of Cullen’s ears flushed crimson when she called him ‘handsome’ and he almost dropped one of the vambraces he was holding.

“Enlighten me, then,” he said, desperately trying to stay on top of his game but failing as the blush slowly crept up his cheeks. “What story do I tell?”

“Let us start simple,” Adaar smiled and crossed her arms on the chest. “Tall, pale - skinned, blond. A fine example of a Fereldan. Musculature befitting a male warrior, even though the lack of consistent training is showing,” she let her gaze slide over him thoughtfully. “You are thinner than a man of your complexion should be, Commander. Working late, skipping meals and continuous lack of sleep are taking their toll on you. “

While talking it did not escape Inquisitor’s notice how a sudden worry crossed Cullen’s face and how it evaporated the moment he did not hear what he was obviously dreading.

“You are burdened by things long gone,” she continued. “The events that left the scars both on the body and the mind. You looked troubled when you saw your scars, for every time they catch your gaze you are reminded that -”

“Enough!” Cullen barked out and hid his eyes behind the palm of his hand for a moment. A quiet sigh left his mouth and the hand slid behind his neck in a familiar gesture of unease. “Forgive me, that came out harsh. I clearly underestimated your abilities, Inquisitor.”

“Commander,” Adaar smiled softly as she eyed his frustrated face. “Scars are the images imprinted on us to remind of the past. These memories are rarely -if ever - good but there is _always_ a silver lining.”

While talking, Tahmyria unbuttoned the top of her leather jerkin and pulled the collar aside, showing a deep and jagged scar that started at the collarbone and disappeared under the breast band. 

“It was left by someone I have considered a friend. A mate, even,” she said slowly. “I could have shut myself for everyone but I chose to learn _another_ lesson - that the world is not without kindness, that I would be dead if not for a farmer passing by and helping someone he knew nothing about.”

They stood silent for a while, steam drifting around their feet. The Commander got completely dressed now and was ready to go. He started walking away but she called after him, making the man stop in his tracks and turn around.

“You can do it too, Cullen.”

“I - Perhaps,” he muttered, fingers running through his still damp hair that started curling slightly. “Thank you... Tahmyria.”

With these words he had disappeared into the darkness, leaving Adaar all alone by the pool. As to the Inquisitor, she was smiling.


End file.
